


bottled sunlight

by kenisle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x19 and 15x20? don't know her, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healthy Communication, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Love Confessions, M/M, The World is Saved, briefly, canon is like a box of chocolates, dean and cas finally use their goddamn words, dean is shit with words and cas KNOWS that, dean rescued cas from the empty offscreen, discussion of trauma, i take what i like and throw the rest away, mostly dean- and cas-centric, our boys finally talk to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenisle/pseuds/kenisle
Summary: It's Dean's birthday. Cas takes him out on a day trip, but he won't tell Dean why this year is different from any other.They have to talk at some point about what Cas said before the Empty took him, and other stuff on both of their minds, but they're going to have a nice day out together, first.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	1. prologue

One of the first things Castiel learned about Earth was that time passed differently there than in Heaven. Nobody thought to mention this before he set foot on the grass that he used to watch grow tall with the blink of an eye but now barely shifted as hours passed. Castiel's initial moments walking among humans were spent marveling at the feeling of being trapped in a frozen moment, the clouds crawling across the sky and the sun moving nearly imperceptively. 

Castiel had lived for billions of years, but the few he had spent on Earth took up so much more space in his memory than they had any right to. He found himself calling a group of humans "family," despite the fact that the time he had known them was an infinitesimal fraction of his total existence. And yet, it seemed like eons longer than that.

Unfortunately, a brief stint on Earth here and there over the centuries did nothing to prepare him for his biggest mission of all: rescuing the Righteous Man from Hell. For forty agonizing years, Castiel hid from and fought through hordes of demons in their home territory. The Man’s screams guided him within the Pit, until one day, they stopped, and their absence made the endless tomb tremble. Castiel was the only one out of over a dozen angels to survive the first three decades (and wasn't that a shock afterwards, to discover that more angels had died in mere months than in the millennia since Lucifer fell). He was the only angel who wasn't crushed or lost in the debris from walls that began to crumble as Hell itself shook and the first seal was broken. 

Perhaps the others only died because their dwindling hope of escaping was finally snuffed out in the wake of Hell's silent war horn stirring its occupants up into a frenzy. Castiel, on the other hand, saw a bright light amidst all the darkness; it guided him to his charge. He was slightly delirious at the time, believing that God had come down to rescue him, before remembering that he was supposed to be the rescuer of this flickering beacon.

The demons watching over the Righteous Man were no fools. They moved him around Hell to fend off anyone trying to get a taste of the fabled Apocalypse's harbinger. Castiel hoped to reach him while they were still near the surface, where the barrier between Hell and Earth would be the easiest and quickest to break through with his charge in hand, but he had no such luck. Alastair and his lackeys dragged the Righteous Man deeper and deeper into Hell, aiming to lose the feeble little angel in the crowd. Despite the demons' best efforts, Castiel never broke the connection, even when the light was reduced to no more than a pinprick amidst a sea of horror.

Castiel finally found the Righteous Man after ten years of fighting alone. By then, he'd been reduced to repeating his mission of rescuing the Man like a mantra. He said nothing else as he sliced through the guards and muttered no curses when Alastair escaped. He didn't gasp in horror as the Righteous Man pierced a soul's heart with their own sharpened fear of abandonment. He simply appeared before his charge, pulled him close, and propelled them both upward.

The effort made his wings burn, and his charge struggled in his grip with an animalistic fear exhibited only by someone still miraculously clinging to their humanity. Even as the Righteous Man kicked and screamed, begging to be left behind, he gave Castiel hope.


	2. most important meal of the day

"Morning, sunshine," Dean called to Cas from the doorway of the kitchen. "You're up early." Cas was fully dressed already, before even Sam had gotten up. Dean was only awake because the smell of coffee reached his nose and appealed to him much more than the thought of lying awake in his suffocatingly soft bed for another hour. 

Cas smiled warmly at Dean as he made his way over to the coffeemaker to stand next to him. Dean's hand brushed his lower back in greeting before being whisked away to retrieve a mug. 

"Well, today is a special day," Cas said pointedly.

Dean resisted the urge to sigh. "It's no more special than any other birthday," he grumbled. He hadn't forgotten, not this year. He'd even double checked. He was 42, which, unless Cas had taken a sudden interest in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, wasn't all that significant beyond marking another year he hadn't expected to reach. 

"I disagree," said Cas, refusing to elaborate. "Would you like to take a day trip with me to celebrate?" He leaned back against the counter and watched Dean sip his drink. Their shoulders touched. 

Squirming under his gaze, Dean admitted, "I don't like making a big deal of this kinda stuff. You got things planned?"

"A little. Nothing over-the-top, but I thought today definitely deserves a little indulgence. Perhaps we could start by going to that nice diner on the other side of town for breakfast."

Dean perked up at that. "With the awesome pancakes?"

Cas grinned wider. "That's the one."

"Should I wake up Sam and Jack?" Dean asked, though he was reluctant to do so. It felt like he and Cas hadn't gotten more than a brief moment alone to just hang out since everything calmed down.

"I left Sam a note telling him to expect us back sometime tonight. I also suggested that he and Eileen continue teaching Jack sign language. We won't be missed."

"Awesome," Dean said sincerely. He set down his empty mug. "I'm gonna go get dressed. Meet you in the garage?"

Cas nodded. "I have to get a few things to bring with us. I'll wait for you after I load it up."

Dean tried to quell his excitement. He'd been crawling in his skin during the past few weeks, cooped up in the bunker with its three other occupants (sometimes four, when Eileen visited) sticking together. It was nice to spend time with them after nearly losing everyone, but Dean found it a bit suffocating after too long. He had gotten barely any one-on-one time with Sam — on grocery runs — and pretty much none with Cas or Jack. Hell, he and Cas still hadn't talked about…

Shaking his head, Dean dispelled the thought. No need to bring up a man's deathbed confessions when he wasn't ready. Besides, Cas was obviously in the mood to celebrate something (whatever that may be), and Dean wasn't going to rain on his parade with the heavy stuff before they'd even had breakfast.

Cas was already settled in the passenger's seat when Dean stepped into the garage, pulling on his gloves, a gift from Jack. He said the deep green complemented his eyes or something, and Dean had to admit they did go well with most of his usual wardrobe. They were also comfy as hell, with nice leather grips on the palms. Very practical for a hunter; Sam must have helped him pick them out. Glancing over as he started the car, Dean noticed that Cas was wearing a matching set, this one in navy.

The Impala rumbled down the road, free of traffic in the blue light of dawn. Whenever Dean risked a peek at Cas, he saw his relaxed posture softly bathed by the sun's morning rays. Cas caught Dean looking a couple times, always meeting his eyes with the corners of his mouth tipped ever so slightly upward. He looked so genuine and caring that it forced Dean to look away and suppress the urge to take Cas's gloved hand in his own.

Holding himself back from casually touching Cas was even harder now that Dean knew his hand wouldn't be slapped away. There used to always be something to do, some goal to accomplish, some time constraint that kept Dean from gravitating towards Cas, along with the crippling uncertainty of whether or not Cas felt a pull to him as well. Now, it was like a dam had broken, and Dean had to physically restrain himself from clinging to Cas 24/7. For once, it was harder to stay away from Cas than it was to reach out and grab on with both hands, and that scared the hell out of him.

A voice in the back of Dean's head — one that was annoying in the way that a person is when you used to listen to them but now see that their advice isn't all that great, in retrospect — compelled him to keep physical affection to a minimum because he didn't need it, he was better than that, and no one would take him seriously or treat him with respect if he went around being all touchy-feely. That voice was much quieter now than it used to be, but Dean still very much felt its presence, like someone was watching him from someplace he couldn't see.

Years ago, back when Dean was still sticking to John's leather jacket or his own "impenetrable big brother" persona he wore daily (for Sam's benefit or his, he wasn't sure), Dean might have listened to that voice. But why should he now? He was his own person, not just a weapon for John's use or a guardian to shield Sam from all harm. Cas had helped him realize that, after all. The least he could do in repayment is get over himself and express how much Cas means to him in the ways he knows how, instead of bottling it up and hoping Cas just understands it anyway. No, Cas deserved to be told how much he matters. God knows Dean hadn't done a whole lot to show it, kicking him to the curb when he turned human and just letting him walk out instead of going after him and apologizing.

"Thank you, Cas," Dean whispered as they made their way to a table. He didn't trust himself to speak any louder without his voice wobbling. "For this. You didn't have to go to all the trouble, and I appreciate it." 

Dean buried his nose in the menu as soon as they found a booth. He knew Cas was staring at him and that he would probably just order whatever Dean asked for, no matter what he chose, so he planned accordingly. 

"You're welcome." Cas removed his gloves. His hands rested on the table.

"What's this all about, anyway?" Dean asked, setting down the menu and letting his curiosity get the better of him. "You've never done anything for holidays. It's just another birthday, no different from last year or the year before."

Cas's eyes went a little distant. "It is different, but if I tell you how, then I'm afraid it would dampen the mood somewhat. I was planning for us to talk about it near the end." He looked down, a sheepish smile gracing his lips. "I hope you don't mind."

Dean blinked, unsure how to respond at first. "Yeah, that's alright. As long as you aren't stalling so everyone back home can put up streamers and prepare to throw confetti in my face when I get home. Can't say I'm a fan of surprise parties."

Cas gave a small chuckle. "Not to worry, I think Jack's plans won't extend beyond buying some pie and cooking dinner for you. With Sam's help, of course," he added at Dean's worried look. 

Dean honestly didn't mind making all of their meals, and he would gladly do his own birthday meal if it meant avoiding another one of Jack's catastrophic attempts. The last time he tried, he ended up setting off the bunker's smoke alarm and waking everyone up with the charred remains of what may have, at some point, been breakfast. At least this time Jack would be under supervision.

A waiter came by to take their orders. Sure enough, Cas asked for a replica of Dean's meal: short stack of pancakes, coffee, and bacon. Dean knew he was going to steal at least half of Cas's food, so he intentionally asked for less than he wanted. It was just more practical, really.

"What else is on the agenda? Or are we making it up as we go?" Dean asked once the waiter walked away. He had a nervous feeling in his stomach that he could almost call anticipation. 

Eyes lighting up, Cas pulled out his phone. Dean was pleased to see that he had finally convinced him of the Notes function's convenience after seeing him struggle with a notepad and pens that were always getting lost.

"There is a car show today in Topeka I thought you might like to attend. It wouldn't be too long of a drive." Cas showed Dean the website, whose pictures proudly displayed a wide array of classic vehicles lined up in a parking lot, tents set up every few feet.

"Goddamn, I haven't been to one of these in forever," Dean exclaimed, grabbing Cas's unoccupied hand in excitement. "Yeah, I'd love to. Sam never wants to go, these days." To be honest, he couldn't remember the last time they'd attended a car show.

"He mentioned it to me when I asked what sort of thing you might want to do outside the bunker. He said the two of you hadn't gone since you were very young, or he was, at least."

Dean's heart stuttered briefly. Right, their last trip to a car show had been with John, which felt like absolute ages ago. In a way, it kind of was.

He was grateful when Cas interrupted that dangerous train of thought. "In any case, we're in no hurry to be anywhere soon; the show is going on all day, and I'd hate to rush you through breakfast."

Speaking of, their food just arrived. Moving his hand out of the way of the plates, Dean realized it had been holding Cas's for the past few minutes. God, had he been running his thumb along Cas's knuckles, too? This was getting out of hand (ha). Their waiter kindly chose not to comment, for which they were going to receive an extra large tip. Fortunately, Dean was spared from fully melting into a puddle of mortification by the scrumptious-looking pancakes presented to him. He cut off a piece and shovelled it into his mouth as quickly as he could, praying that he wasn't blushing too badly. 

Eager to change the subject (and also just because he enjoyed hearing Cas talk), Dean asked about what Cas had been up to. He chewed his food and let the conversation pull him away from his worries. Once Dean polished off his plate, he switched it with Cas's, which had barely been touched. He was about to dig in, but then he hesitated. 

"You ever even tried these pancakes?" Dean asked Cas, as soon as he finished his story about Jack discovering bath bombs (next time, the kid could clean up the glitter himself).

"I can't say I have," Cas admitted. "Until recently, my sense of taste has been too… angelic to enjoy food."

Dean speared a particularly syrupy piece of pancake on his fork and held it out to Cas at mouth level. Cas indulged him, leaning across the table to take the bite — not bothering to grab the fork himself and consequently making Dean's blush return in full force. 

Chewing thoughtfully, Cas hummed his approval. "It is quite good. I see why you like this place so much." 

Dean couldn't help but grin back. The moment was too sappy, so of course he had to cheapen it. "Well, I ain't here to ogle hot chicks. I'll tell you that much." The staff at this diner consisted of two women, the chefs with conspicuously matching wedding rings; the hostess, with deep smile lines and a maternal attitude around her younger employees; and the waiter, barely out of teenhood and androgynous enough to suggest having given up on finding their gender, if they ever had one. Certainly no one in attendance whom Dean would consider eyeing up (well, no one who wasn't sitting at the table with him).

Cas rolled his eyes good naturedly. "You're insufferable."

"Yeah," Dean answered with his most smug smile and exactly zero brain cells, "But you still love me." It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his mouth.

He did not just go there.

Fuck, he absolutely just went there.

Cas didn't flinch, thank god. He just returned the smile, albeit way more sincere, and said softly, "Yes, I do."

Dean sat there and chewed for a moment. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and barrelled forward, because god dammit he did not want to ruin the day already. "We still haven't talked about that yet. I'd like to talk about it." Even if he had to fumble his way through it worse than a stoner in a concert crowd who was also wearing a blindfold.

Cas nodded. "I would as well, but we don't have to quite yet. We can put it on hold until tonight."

Sighing in relief, Dean said, "Good. Sounds good. Let's do that. When we talk about the other thing." Fucking words, why do they never work right?

"I look forward to it," Cas agreed. He said nothing more on the subject as he carried on their easy conversation from before.

Dean ate the rest of Cas's pancakes, interrupting him every now and then to offer a bite. The sun rose higher in the sky and cast a golden light on Cas's face, making his hair practically sparkle. When both plates were empty, Cas paid the bill, Dean left a fifty for the waiter (what could he say, he was in a good mood), and they made their way back to the car. 

"Would you like me to drive or give you the address?" Cas asked, the door closing behind them.

Dean slipped his gloves back on. The cool air was pleasantly sharp on his face, and Cas's question floated between them on a small cloud.

"You can drive if you want," Dean decided, handing over the keys and resolutely not regretting the layer of cloth between his lingering hand and Cas's.

Cas went to retrieve something from the trunk, which gave Dean a second to flex his tingling fingers. Cas returned with a cassette tape in hand, putting it in the player with such care that Dean didn't have to ask which one it was. The first of Dean's _top 13 Zepp Traxx_ filled the car, and neither occupant could hold back a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: it's one meal, how long can it take? 30 minutes? better add some general conversation with vague durations just in case i get it wrong. now the reader can decide.


	3. your interests aren't my interests; my interest is you

By the time Cas found a parking space, the car show was in full swing. The attendant at the lot entrance thought they were looking for a place to show off their Impala, and Dean had to inform them that no, they hadn't reserved one and were only there to see the show. They were sent off to the guest section with a pamphlet that Dean skimmed and then saved for Cas to study once he parked.

Dean led Cas down the line of beautifully polished and maintained automobiles, highlights from the last several decades. Cas was especially intrigued by those featuring butterfly doors, including the one that had the car's steering wheel attached to it. Dean excitedly recounted the unique qualities of each model, pointing out various odds and ends, though he noticed Cas only looked between his face and his gesturing hands. Sometimes the owner of a car would be standing or sitting next to it, all too eager to chat with Dean about its specifics. None of them batted an eye at Cas's glazed-over expression when all the jargon went over his head, nor when Dean readily answered one of his rare questions.

Dean found himself enjoying Cas's quiet presence. Despite Cas's total lack of interest and knowledge about cars, he silently encouraged Dean every step through the parking lot. Cas spoke up after Dean had seen each and every car.

"I found an artist online who will make and frame drawings," he explained, showing Dean another website on his phone, "Their specialties are buildings and vehicles, and they have good deals for ordering multiple works." The page showed all kinds of detailed sketches and paintings of old cars, cityscapes, and statues. Dean looked back up at Cas, who continued, "The bunker is a little sparse in terms of decoration and personal touches. I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to take or find pictures of some cars here and get them drawn to display on the walls. What do you say?"

Dean felt his throat close up a little bit. "Yeah," he choked out, "Yeah, that's an awesome idea. Maybe then it'll feel more like ours. Thank you, Cas. Let's go see what that one with the steering wheel on the door was called…" 

He led Cas away by the elbow, blinking furiously to dispel the tears that threatened to escape.

They found five cars to put up on their walls. It seemed like enough to warrant the cost of getting them, but not so much that they left no room for what someone else might want to put up. Two of their choices were set apart enough from the other cars to get decent pictures of them. Cas wrote down the makes and models of the rest to find on the internet later. He seemed so in his element that Dean had to resist taking a picture of his concentrating face so he could cherish it forever.

Dean walked close enough to Cas that their elbows knocked together. He also tried to pretend it was the cold that sent a shiver down his spine and that Cas mumbling in his ear about what angle best suited this vintage car or the next had nothing to do with it. Not to mention the warm feeling that had settled in his belly after he got over his surprise at Cas's suggestion and jumped every time he remembered exactly how fucking thoughtful it was. Goddamn, Cas really was a gift to humanity.

"What's next, Cas?" asked Dean as they got into the car. He sat in front of the wheel. "Should be your turn to pick something. I know you're not super into cars, so thank you for bringing me here anyway."

"I like seeing you engage in things that interest you," Cas said simply. "I didn't have anything specific in mind for myself, though I'm sure it won't be hard to find."

A quick look at the map on Dean's phone revealed the perfect destination. "Look, there's a zoo less than twenty minutes north of here. How 'bout that?"

Cas's blinding smile was answer enough for him. Dean fought to concentrate on the road into town, littered with midday traffic. 

In pushing away the soppy twisting in his chest, Dean allowed newer, worse thoughts to rush in. Why did Cas seem sad earlier, when Dean asked what they were doing all this for? Why would he want to commemorate something bad? Then Dean remembered how he still hadn't addressed what Cas had said to him before being taken by the Empty. Maybe Cas thought Dean was going to kick him out, and today was his last hurrah? Oh, god. 

"Cas," Dean began, determined not to spoil their good day. "I know I haven't said anything about… what happened before. With the Empty. I know I've been a dick in the past, and I'm sorry for that, so I just want you to…" He had to sigh and collect his thoughts. "Tonight, when we do talk about it, no matter what happens or what dumb shit I might say, I want you to stay. I don't want to say goodbye." That last sentence came out as no more than a whisper.

Cas looked at Dean with glimmering understanding in his eyes. "Thank you. I'm glad you told me, and I have no intention of leaving you." Then, like he was reading Dean's mind, Cas offered his hand, palm up, on the seat between them. Dean gratefully took it. He squeezed like it would make all the jumbled up words in his brain absorb into Cas's skin and relieve him of having to organize them into sentences. He didn't let go until they arrived at their next stop.

The zoo looked decent, as far as zoos went. There were several groups of kids dragging their parents from place to place, but it wasn't nearly as crowded as Dean dreaded it might be. Not that he was scrambling for a good viewing point; he more enjoyed watching Cas study the exhibits with the intense focus of a lion stalking its prey than anything behind the fences. 

As it turned out, the weather was too cold for many of the animals to come into sight. Nevertheless, Cas wandered around the pens of the more hardy beasts, spouting random facts about polar bears and whatnot. He didn't need to read off the little signs, though; these were just things he'd picked up while watching the animal kingdom evolve. A proud look crossed his face whenever Dean gave an impressed noise in response to something neat he said.

Lunch was spent in the little café halfway through their walk around the zoo. Dean munched on his burger while Cas continued to discuss the animals on display. 

"Those two giraffes were complaining about how slippery the ground gets after it snows," Cas relayed. "They wish that their caretakers would put more effort into shoveling their enclosure."

"You can talk to animals?" Dean laughed incredulously. "Are you shitting me? How has that not come up before?"

"I know what they're saying, but they don't understand my words any better than yours," corrected Cas. "I never thought to mention it."

"Well, it's hilarious," Dean said, scrubbing a hand over his aching face. He hadn't smiled this much in… well, a long time. They lapsed into comfortable silence as Dean finished his meal.

Dean stood up and offered his hand to help Cas do the same — neither let go when Cas straightened. 

"C'mon this way. I saw a sign for something cool when we were driving in. I think you'll like it." 

Cas allowed himself to be pulled along. "Somehow, I believe you're right."

Dean stopped a couple hundred steps later in front of a small building with glass walls. Inside, dozens of plants teemed with butterflies of all different colors. He turned to see Cas beaming at him before they walked to the door.

"Trust me, you'll want to shed a few layers," Dean told Cas once they went in, removing his own coat and putting it on a hanger in a side room. "They keep it very warm in these things." Hopefully not too warm. Dean still got queasy sometimes if the air was too hot. That's one reason he liked the bunker so much: it was underground and always pleasantly cool — though neither he nor Sam liked to turn the heat very high anyway. 

Cas obliged. He carefully placed his trench coat on a hook near Dean's jacket. Underneath, he wore a red flannel and a dark grey henley that had probably both belonged to Dean at one point. Dean threw his arm around Cas's shoulders on a whim and led him into the butterfly room. Was it the heat making Cas's face red?

The guide at the door warned them to watch their step in case a butterfly decided to land on the floor. Cas dutifully hung his head and walked carefully to the nearest bench, where he and Dean sat. Cas watched the little bugs float lazily over his head with open joy that Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from. He didn't want to whip out his phone, but he did take a few seconds to let the image solidify in his memory.

Cas looked back at Dean and had to stifle a laugh. Following his gaze, Dean saw a large butterfly perched on his shoulder. Its wings looked brown with lots of spots, but when it occasionally flapped them, he saw the deep blue gradient painted on their inner sides. 

A small voice gasped next to Dean. A little girl with her hair done up in four puffs was looking right at the little guy on his shoulder. Dean gave her a smile and gestured her closer.

"Hi. You wanna hold it?" he asked. "The trick is to move your hand in front of its legs and make it step on. Not too fast, though. Like this." He demonstrated, transferring the butterfly to his own fingers and holding it out to the girl. She sparkled and eagerly tried to copy him. "There you go. Just be careful not to jostle 'em."

A woman nearby watched the exchange in amusement. "Your partner seems very good with kids," she said to Cas. 

"Yes, he is," Cas agreed. Dean did his best to look like he was paying attention to the girl with her new friend and not the conversation going on a foot away from him. "One of his many admirable qualities."

"Do you have any kids of your own?"

"One. He's at home with his uncle, right now, probably learning sign language or watching a documentary," Cas rattled off casually, like Dean's stomach wasn't doing somersaults.

"Aw, that's sweet. How old?" 

Dean silently thanked Cas for holding up their end of the conversation — some people could be really chatty. Then he realized that Cas was about to answer honestly.

"Four—"

"—teen. He's fourteen," Dean interrupted, shooting Cas a look. "Grew like a damn weed, seems like."

The woman laughed. "Oh, don't I know it. My son's been taller than me since he was sixteen; I swear he went up by an inch every day." Good, she didn't notice the slip-up. Her phone beeped, and she turned towards the exit. "I'd better be off. Nice talking to you, Castiel." The door swung shut behind her.

Dean felt put off, but he couldn't place why. He felt a hand on his forearm. Cas was gripping it tightly, his eyes glued to where that woman had just left. The expression he wore intensified Dean's bad vibes.

"Dean," Cas said in a tight voice, "I never told her my name."

Dean's heart dropped to his feet. The pleasant moment was gone, and the warm feeling in his stomach was replaced by bitter ice. Goddamnit, of all the places.

"Okay." Dean tried to keep his breaths even and his words quiet. "Okay, what have we got? I've got a knife in my boot, but it's not the one for killing demons. That's probably what she is, right?"

Cas nodded. "I believe so. My ability to sense her evades me, but I did smell a hint of sulfur while she talked. I assumed it was just a potent flower of some sort. We should follow her. I have my angel blade in my coat."

"What do you mean your ab— never mind." They both stood up. Dean slowed his pace to avoid drawing attention. "Let's get our jackets and tail her until she's not around a bunch of people. We should try to avoid killing her meat suit; a body will not be easy to take care of in the middle of the city."

"I know a quick exorcism that should work."

Dean pushed open the exit door. He waited until they were done being checked over for stowaway butterflies to whisper, "Watch your back."

The light in the closet where they'd left their coats was off. As soon as Dean flicked the switch, the demon yanked him fully into the room. Cas reached for him and missed, then Dean hit the wall and saw stars burst all over his vision. He watched in a daze as Cas dodged the swipes of another demon who'd been hiding behind a coat rack. 

Dean scrambled to his feet, subtly making his way to the hook that held Cas's coat. Finally, his fingers found the hilt of the angel blade. He leaped into the fray and put the second demon into a chokehold, blade at their throat. Cas wrestled the woman to the ground and put a knee on the arm twisted behind her back. Dean made sure the door was shut, then nodded to signal Cas. Latin chanting spilled out of Cas's mouth with practiced ease. The lights flickered as the demons struggled harder, but Cas didn't let that faze him. He spoke the last words of the exorcism with extra force as sinister smoke burned twin patches in the floor.

Sighing, Dean checked the pulse of his now-demon-free captive. "Still alive," he announced, relieved.

"Mine, too," responded Cas. He and Dean lugged the unconscious bodies over to sit in the far corner of the room. Cas put two fingers to their foreheads, explaining that both would remember feeling faint and coming into this room to sit down for a moment.

Dean thanked him, grabbed their jackets, and ushered him out into the open air.

"Remind me when we get home to call Rowena and tell her what happened." Dean rubbed his face tiredly before slamming the passenger door shut. "She's gotta keep her subjects in line."

Cas started the car. He had seemed a bit subdued the whole rest of their visit, so Dean nudged him with his elbow.

"What's up, man? You okay?"

Cas hesitated. "I couldn't see that she was a demon," he admitted, looking ashamed.

"But you still figured it out," reminded Dean, "We still sent their asses back to Hell for their new Queen to deal with them, and no one got hurt worse than a few cuts and bruises."

"That's another thing." Cas took off his glove and showed his palm to Dean. It was red and some of the skin had been scraped off, leaving it tender and, more concerningly, not healed.

"You think your mojo's not working?" Dean dug around in the glove compartment for the first aid kit, one hand still holding Cas's. It wasn't a bad scrape, but it would be a bitch to drive with, and the thought of Cas in pain rubbed Dean the wrong way.

"That's something I wanted to talk to you about, at our next stop."

Dean took a deep breath. Okay, just a little longer, then they can get everything out in the open. "I can roll with that. Where to?"

"There's a wildlife refuge about an hour south," Cas said, pulling the address up on his phone, "I was thinking we could park, maybe lay down a blanket, and talk."

Smiling, Dean nodded. "Yeah, good idea. The sun should be setting right when we get there. It'll be gorgeous."

"I know. I only hope our conversation won't spoil the view." Cas pulled the car onto the main road.

"I think we'll be alright," Dean mumbled. He tentatively reached out to lace his fingers with Cas's. The bandage scratched against his palm, but he didn't mind at all. The Impala sped off towards their last destination of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when we could actually go places? and see people?? without worrying for our safety in crowds??? that was wild, dude.


	4. communication is key (and if there's a key, there must be a lock)

The dusk sky ripened like a peach, reddening with each passing mile of farmland and distant cities. Dean's stomach coiled with anticipation, a spring being compressed by the massive weight he'd been carrying on his shoulders for god knows how long. One way or another, tonight would mark a change in Dean's life. For once, he was optimistic about the outcome.

Cas pulled away from the dirt road and parked under a tree just as the sun began to touch the horizon. He shut the car off, then popped the trunk and went to grab some things. By the time Dean stepped out, Cas was shutting the trunk with a small cooler and a large cloth bag (the kind he and Sam insist on bringing to the store whenever they buy groceries) hanging from one elbow. He offered the other to Dean when he reached the back, the damn gentleman.

Dean allowed himself to be led to the middle of the clearing they'd stopped at the edge of. It was a decent size with plenty of sky visible, though it was sheltered from the wind on all sides by evergreens. The grass was nice and dry.

Cas pulled a thick blanket out of his bag, and Dean helped him spread it out. They weighed it down with one of their shoes at each corner. Dean watched Cas set out two beers from the cooler, a camping lantern, and a smaller blanket ("In case you get cold.") while the setting sun cast a golden glow on his face through the trees. This time, Dean gave in to the urge to take a picture. The shutter went off as Cas searched for a way to switch on the lantern, sitting cross-legged on their picnic blanket. Dean smiled at the unnecessarily sharp focus frozen on his features in the image and then the sheepish upturn of lips on the real Cas.

Dean opened both beers, handing one to Cas, and took a swig, if only to tear his eyes away from the adoring look pointed his way. Cas copied his movement. A beat of silence settled over the clearing, before it was unavoidably swept away.

"Where do you want to start?" Dean asked, leaning back onto one hand.

Cas took a deep breath and gathered his courage. With that, he shed his first burden. "I'm becoming human. Permanently, this time."

Nodding, Dean squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment. He'd suspected something was going on, sure, and that surprise demon attack had kind of drawn the curtain back the rest of the way, but hearing it out loud hurt. When he opened his eyes again, Cas was studying his hands.

"All out of juice? Jack can't whip up a new batch for you with his new God powers?" He huffed a nervous laugh, like it would dull the pain at all.

"Yes, my grace is nearly gone," Cas began, "And Jack asked me if I wanted to be made an angel again, but I said no."

Dean nearly spat out his beer. "You what? Dude, why not? You…" He blinked hard. "You're gonna die now. You'd rather give up millions or billions of years for less than, what, sixty?"

"Yes." Cas looked completely sure in his decision, as if he hadn't refused an offer that most humans would accept in a heartbeat, that Dean just sputtered in disbelief. "I'm relinquishing my grace in exchange for a soul of my own. I've still got a little bit left, but it's fading, and soon my soul will eclipse it entirely."

"But why?" Being human sucked, especially when you had so little practice at it. 

"Humans experience life in an entirely different way than angels," Cas explained, "You have a limited time on Earth, and thus you must live it out in the best way you can. Angels don't age, they're hardly ever in danger, they don't feel, and they never change."

"You did," said Dean quietly. A hand clasped his arm, and he looked up into Cas's earnest eyes.

"Yes, I did. And I want to continue to do so. If I were to become a fully-fledged angel again, I would be stuck exactly as I am now, or worse, I'd revert to how I was before I Fell." Cas's thumb stroked Dean's skin absentmindedly. "I'm not perfect. Some might even say Falling was the worst thing that ever happened to me. But I wouldn't give it up for the world. Not now, not ever. My new emotions and thoughts are gifts that make the world so much more vibrant. They scare me sometimes, yes, and mortality is terrifying, but they make life worth living."

Cas turned to watch the sun dip ever lower in the swirling colors of the sky. 

"Time is different as a human. Every moment is given significance, the likes of which I had never seen before from heaven. Watching the Colorado River carve the Grand Canyon takes up less space in my mind than the events of today, despite the millions of years' difference in the duration of each. I used to watch species rise and fall on the evolutionary chain with the tempo of a heartbeat, and now I get impatient waiting for my food to heat up." Cas chuckled, and Dean couldn't help but grin through his welling tears.

Cas looked back at him. "I believe I've found reason to savor small moments instead of letting them pass me by. You make me want to spend eternity watching steam curl above my coffee, or frost creeping across the Impala's exterior. You, Sam, and Jack all give me greater strength than the grace of a thousand angels ever could. Even my connections with Eileen and everyone else I've met on earth help me get through difficult days in hopes of better ones. And you, Dean — a supernova could never hope to compare to the light your soul emits. Your compassionate heart knows no bounds, and I'm eternally grateful to have met you."

Dean ducked his head. His cheeks felt a little wet, and he couldn't lift his eyes to meet Cas's, but he clung to Cas's hand like a lifeline. With his other arm, he pulled Cas into a brisk hug (he didn't trust himself not to bawl if he held on any longer), a shaky "Thank you," whispered into his neck.

Cas let Dean take another sip of beer before continuing, "I meant what I said. Before the Empty took me. Every word."

Dean nodded.

"I never said anything until then because I feared how you might respond. It was cowardly of me, only letting it out when I knew you wouldn't have the chance to answer, and I apologize for that." Cas wet his lips uncertainly.

"It's okay," said Dean, "I get it. I am John's son, after all. I see why you might… worry about my reaction. I'm just sorry you didn't feel like you could tell me. I'd never want to push you away. I know I did when you first became human, and I regret it to this day," he amended, guilt creeping down his spine. "I thought I had no other choice—"

"You didn't," interrupted Cas. "None that you knew of. You just wanted to keep Sam safe. I understand."

"Even so," Dean barreled on, determined to get this out, "I coulda been there for you. Could've found an apartment so you wouldn't have to sleep in the damn closet of that gas station, or offered to do your laundry so you wouldn't have to pay to do it, or given you one of the million cars in the garage so you wouldn't've had to fuckin' walk everywhere, or—" His throat caught, trapping any more words that might have tumbled into the fragile air between them.

The gentle pressure of Cas's hand in Dean's grounded him and helped him breathe through it. "Yes, you made mistakes, you could have done better, but that's in the past. You've clearly learned from it, and it made you better as a result. I forgive you."

Dean sniffed, squeezing Cas's hand once. "Promise?" 

Cas squeezed back in response. "Promise."

In the quiet that followed, Cas turned on the light and rummaged in his bag, which gave Dean an opportunity to quickly wipe his eyes with his unoccupied hand. Cas emerged victorious, a small, wooden box clasped in his fingers.

"I got something for you." Cas's voice was cautiously excited, clearly belonging to someone unused to the sensation of gift giving.

Dean took the box and popped it open. He had to stare for a few seconds, processing what he was seeing. A pair of beautiful yet simple rings stared up at him like a pair of eyes. Two different kinds of metal — one silver and the other dark, brownish grey — composed the bands. The one on the left was light on the edges and dark in the middle, while the one on the right's colors were inverted. Dean picked up the one on the right, examining it.

"They're made up of silver and iron," Cas was saying, "I called upon Gabriel to redeem a favor. He befriended a skilled dwarven blacksmith during his time as Loki, and he kindly put me in touch with them to commission these. I hoped for something meaningful but also practical for a hunter."

"Yeah, all I'd have to do is shake a shifter's hand and they'd sizzle," Dean gasped. Could he punch a ghost with this thing?

As if that wasn't enough, the rings had even more to offer. "I'm aware that all the rigor involved with hunting can make it difficult to keep track of personal items. I also don't know how rings are sized, so I asked the dwarf to add some enchantments. Firstly, the rings will be a perfect fit, no matter who wears them, and they won't tarnish. Secondly, they cannot be removed except by the wearer or with their permission. And lastly, should the owner ever misplace their ring, they need only reach into their pocket, and there it will be waiting. You'll never lose it to a monster's antics, nor anything else."

Dean beamed. "God damn, you thought of everything."

Cas shone with pride in the rapidly dimming twilight. He took the other ring out of its box and offered it to Dean. "I intended for you to take this ring, while I wear the other one. There are certain connotations associated with exchanging rings, I know, but this doesn't necessarily have to follow societal norms. I just wanted to give you something useful and worth treasuring. Something to remind you of who loves you, and you'll never lose it." 

Dean took his ring and gave Cas the one he'd been looking at. A bunch of different feelings whirled around in his head, then he thought _fuck it,_ and slipped it onto his left ring finger. It slid into place like it belonged there. Cas watched him with a careful mask of neutrality.

"If you look closely, you'll see yours has an inscription," Cas prompted.

Dean took the ring back off and rotated it, reading the words on the inside of the band.

_You deserve to be saved._

A small sob escaped his mouth. Dean closed his eyes, overwhelmed by emotion. It was perfect, of course it was perfect. A reminder to carry with him everywhere, through the good days and the bad. A reminder of the good in his life, of Sam, of Jack, and, most predominantly, of Cas. For lack of any way to respond other than crying his eyes out, Dean returned the ring to its rightful place and laced his fingers with Cas's. 

Cas shifted closer, like he knew Dean wanted him to but couldn't do himself, until their shoulders pressed together. Dean rested his head on Cas's shoulder, and they both watched the sun disappear from view.

"Thank you," Dean said at last, "for everything. Sometimes I still can't believe it. That you saved me." Not just one time, but several, over the past twelve years or so.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Cas's voice rumbled in Dean's ear like thunder. Strangely calming. "You wanted to know what we celebrated today."

Dean lifted his head and looked at Cas. Their noses were inches away. "Oh yeah, there's more. I almost forgot."

Cas nodded, looking a little grave. "Today you turned forty-two. Discounting the year you and I spent in Purgatory… you've officially been on Earth longer than you were in Hell."

The words hit Dean like a train.

"Holy shit," he whispered. His heart had dropped to somewhere near the Earth's core and taken most of his voice with it. "I— you… fuck."

"Yes," Cas agreed, keeping his voice level. "Forty years in Hell, forty-one on Earth, and one left up to interpretation."

Dean's diaphragm started working overtime. He regretfully removed his hand from Cas's to grip his hair between his fingers. Pulling on his scalp was almost enough to keep him on the ground, yet he felt like he was a million miles away. A warm hand found his shoulder and pulled him close to Cas's blessedly solid chest, where another hand cradled the back of his neck. It helped ease the feeling of having just gotten a hot, metal spike removed from his chest that had escaped his notice before but was making its burn known now with full force.

Forty years. It had felt like a lifetime. Hell hadn't even let him sleep through a third of the days like he could up here, so really more of his memories came from there. God, and he hadn't even realized. How had he not realized how much he was missing?

There were days when Dean forgot his life before Hell, hidden behind a wall of torment that spanned decades. Dean was more acquainted with the snivelly tones of his captor-turned-mentor's slimey remarks than he was with his own parents' voices. He couldn't remember the faces of hunters that died before he was pulled into the pit, nor the features of old flames that were snuffed out long before the hellfire was.

"There's so much, Cas," Dean cried into Cas's coat, muffling his shouts in case the trees were listening, "There's so much gone. They took it all. They stole so much and I can't— I don't think I'll ever get it back."

"I know." Cas stroked his hand through Dean's hair in a soothing rhythm. Dean's fists slowly unclenched. The strong band of his ring remained, as did Cas. 

"Would you like to lay down?" Cas offered.

Dean nodded, unable to hold himself up any longer. He lowered himself until his head lay in Cas's lap. One of Cas's hands was held in both of Dean's, resting on top of his chest, and the other resumed its combing of his hair. Dean's muscles relaxed one by one. Stars began to twinkle above him.

"Now you understand why I didn't want to tell you this morning," said Cas, also looking at the sky. 

A shaky breath rattled Dean's lungs. "Yeah. Thanks for… letting me get that out. Sorry you had to see it."

Cas didn't hesitate. "No need to apologize. I don't know if you know this, but I was in Hell for just as long as you were. I was cut off from Heaven, I couldn't see the sky, and all of my siblings had fallen to demons. You were my guiding light through the darkness, my North Star. Even when you believed yourself irredeemable for what you had done under the demons' command—" Cas graciously did not mention his primary demonic chaperone by name "—you were still brighter than every other soul I'd seen. I saved you from that place, but, in a way, you saved me, as well."

Dean squeezed Cas's hand in affirmation. His brain was overloaded at that point, and he couldn't find the words to give a more meaningful response than simply reassuring Cas that he was there. 

"Can I see your ring again?" he asked instead. Cas handed it over, and Dean sat up to examine the inside. Rather than words like what Dean's contained, Cas's ring had the simple shape of a handprint etched into the metal. Dean grabbed Cas's hand again and slowly put the ring back on his left ring finger.

"You know, you deserve to be saved, too." Dean leaned forward more. He was basically sitting in Cas's lap, twisting in place to face him. Both of his hands were holding Cas's one, resting on his thigh. One let go and reached out to brush the side of Cas's face, fluttering over his skin in uncertainty. Cas tilted his head to rest in Dean's palm. His eyes were expectant.

Dean's back twinged. "Fuck, hang on." He had to readjust his position, but he didn't quite know how to do so without putting more distance between them, which was absolutely a no-go. He settled on moving one leg to straddle Cas's lap, hands on his shoulders.

Cas's eyebrows climbed up his forehead, but he didn't speak.

"I just wanna say," Dean said, "That I love you too, angel." He planted a quick yet firm peck on Cas's lips, which curled into a smile. "And there's so much I wanna do to follow up on that, but I'd like it to do it somewhere I can crash afterward. It's been a long day. I don't wanna start and then have to wait an entire car ride to get home. You get me?"

"Yes," Cas answered. His voice was an octave lower than normal (somehow), sending shivers down Dean's spine. He levelled Dean a heavy look but said nothing more.

"Good." Dean stood abruptly and offered Cas a hand up. "Besides, it's getting too cold to stay out here much longer." He ignored the flush creeping up his face.

They quickly packed up the picnic, Dean all but throwing the bag back into the trunk whilst simultaneously trying to keep his heart rate down. Keeping his excitement under wraps may have been one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

But if the ringed hand entwined with his made his pulse thunder in his ears as he sped home, who was going to know?


	5. at long last, i've found a person to call home

After he turned the car off, Dean took a moment to just sit in silence with Cas. He was nervous about going in and facing Sam and Jack in light of the new developments between them. It was one thing to get everything out in the open with Cas, but it was entirely another to consider how their other relationships might change because of it.

"Cas, I…" Dean trailed off, assembling his thoughts. "I'd rather not tell anyone just yet. About us, I mean." Cas nodded, which Dean took as a prompt to continue, "Not that I think we never should, 'cause you deserve better than to have to keep it a secret. But, like I said, it's been a long day, and…"

Dean's voice threatened to give out. He took some deep breaths.

"I understand. Whatever makes you comfortable," Cas assured him, putting a hand on Dean's.

Dean squeezed his hand back gratefully. "I'm not tryin' to decide when or if we should tell anyone. If you really wanna keep it under wraps or scream it from the roof, we can work it out. I just… I feel like I'm on fire, you know? And it's in a good way, when we're alone, but if we go downstairs looking like anything's different, it's like… all eyes are on me. I'll probably get overwhelmed and do or say something I'll regret. I just don't wanna risk it."

"I know you've never been one for public displays of affection," said Cas, "I won't do anything if you don't want me to."

"I just gotta get used to… this," Dean said, gesturing between them with his free hand, then squeezing Cas's with the other, "Promise."

Dean's phone vibrated with a text from Sam.

_you guys coming down? dinner's ready_

Dean quickly responded in the affirmative before pocketing his phone and leaning over to steal a quick kiss from Cas, because that was something he could do now. He felt the lack of warmth in his hand after he withdrew it and stepped out of the car, but it didn't pain him as much as he thought it might. It was a reminder of what he had to look forward to.

The table was already set when they got there, servings of fettuccine alfredo still steaming on the plates. _Smart,_ Dean thought, _Easy meal for a beginner like Jack, but also delicious._ Sam and Jack sat on one side of the table, Eileen sat at the head (like always, so she didn't have to turn her head too far to read anyone's lips or signs), and there were two open seats on the other side. Jack noticed them first, a smile splitting his face as he waved. Sam and Eileen cut off their conversation to call out greetings. 

"Hey, guys," Dean said as he pulled out Cas's chair for him and sat across from Sam, on Eileen's other side. Cas thanked him and sat down.

"Did you have a nice trip?" Jack asked. 

"Yeah, it was fun." Dean signed the best he could while he spoke. "Who made dinner?"

"Jack did," Sam said proudly. Jack beamed.

"Though he did have some help," Eileen added.

"Happy birthday, Dean!"

"Thanks, Jack."

Cas piped up before Dean could shrink under everyone's smiles, "Why don't we dig into this wonderful-looking meal you've made, and you can tell me about your day?"

Jack eagerly launched into a play-by-play recount. Sam and Eileen had indeed given him another lesson in sign language. According to them, he was picking it up very quickly. Then they'd spent most of the afternoon sorting through the Bunker's inventory.

"We found this purple rock that can make the holder see like a mantis shrimp," Jack regaled, "Those are the things that see way more colors than humans. Sam wouldn't let me try because he almost threw up when he touched it just for a second."

"I wouldn't wish that on anyone," Sam said with an exaggerated shudder.

Dean half tuned out of the conversation. Mostly, his attention was on his food and the occasional brush of Cas's knee against his. He fidgeted with his new ring below the table to keep his hands busy; all they wanted to do was reach out to Cas and pull him close.

While Sam told Cas about how the cooking process went, Dean turned and saw Eileen eyeing the ring on his finger. She looked at his, then at Cas's, then back up at Dean. She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly but said nothing. Dean was still frozen in place when she smoothly returned her focus to Sam's story as if nothing had happened. Dean let out a breath.

Dessert (pie, of course) came and went without a hitch. Dean got Cas a small slice to try, which he ate without comment. There was a point where Dean wordlessly wiped some whipped cream off Cas's cheek with a napkin, but that could be played off as platonic, right? If Sam thought anything was off, he kept it to himself.

Once Jack started to yawn around every other sentence, the adults sent him to bed and retired to the Dean cave. Sam and Eileen curled up on one couch while Dean picked out something to watch, leaving him and Cas to share the other one. Not that he was complaining. Dean flicked the lights off and made his way to Cas, subtly throwing an arm over the back of the sofa as he sat down maybe a little closer than usual. In the dark, illuminated only by the glow of the TV screen, the tightness in Dean's ribs eased just a tad. 

Cas slipped his arm around Dean's waist about thirty minutes into the movie, watching him the whole time with a question in his eyes. Dean kept his eyes on the screen but nodded and patted Cas's shoulder in response, leaving his hand there. He risked a glance over to Sam and Eileen. Sam's head was resting on her shoulder, eyes half-lidded. Dean knew he'd be asleep soon, especially since Eileen's thumb was slowly stroking the skin of Sam's hand in her lap. A fond smile crept onto Dean's face.

He looked back at Cas. Maybe there was something to be had with settling down. Having someone to share a space with. And not just out of necessity or habit, like squeezing into tiny motel rooms for as long as he could remember, but because being there with that someone made it home. 

Dean wasn't afraid to admit that he hadn't thought about what he'd do once the disasters ceased and he could be done with hunting. He'd honestly expected to be long gone by now, taken out in a blaze of glory ending that was messy and terrible but easy; that was how it was supposed to go. Living for the moment and only daring to hope for another day was much easier than imagining a long road ahead of dealing with everything in the rear-view mirror. Now, though, hunting didn't need to be his whole life. The world didn't need any more saving. A restless spirit or stray werewolf here and there wouldn't go amiss, he reasoned, when he needed to stretch his legs and get some exercise (he wasn't about to start running for fun, thank you very much; he'd leave that to his health nut brother).

Could he get a job? Earn some honest cash? He knew the ins and outs of the Impala like nobody's business. Working at a car repair shop wouldn't be too hard, if he could scrounge up some legitimate-looking documents that don't say he's a serial killer or twice-dead. Or was it thrice? He couldn't remember.

The movie had ended at some point during Dean's contemplation, and Eileen was the only other person still awake. Cas's head was pillowed on Dean's shoulder. Eileen nudged Sam awake and bid them goodnight before leading him to their room. She gave Dean a pointed look at Cas. Dean smiled a little, waving his hand. Cas stirred after they were alone for a moment.

"Heya, sleepyhead," Dean said softly, "Movie's over. You wanna head to bed?"

Cas hummed, eyes still closed. "Yours or mine?"

Heat touched Dean's cheeks at the words. "Mine, if you wanna."

Cas opened his eyes and looked up at Dean, more alert now. "I do. Let's go." Dean's eyebrows climbed up his forehead as Cas stood up and started to pull him to his room by the hand. 

"Light sleeper," Dean muttered.

No sooner had Dean shut his bedroom door and flipped on the light than he was gently crowded up against the wall. Cas's eyes were mere inches from his own, pupils wide. Dean's knees nearly buckled, and he blinked a few times, waiting for Cas to lean in.

Instead, Cas simply said, "Dean,"

It took a few seconds for Dean to remember how to speak. "Yeah?" His voice sounded thin, even to his own ears.

"Is this okay?" Cas asked earnestly.

Dean nodded.

The first touch of their lips was like a flash of lightning. It ricocheted within the cage formed by Cas's arms, striking Dean again and again, and turned his legs to jelly. Despite the chasteness of it, the kiss had a much more intense effect on Dean than any other. The warmth of Cas's proximity reached his core and eased down the walls around his heart, leaving an open channel of emotion between the two of them. Dean slammed his eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation. Feelings of _home_ blazed a trail along his skin from the warm hand on his shoulder to the tips of his fingers and toes. 

Dean brought his hands to the sides of Cas's face. Cas moved closer, pressing against Dean from chest to knee. He gripped Dean's hips with long fingers and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He felt so soft and firm and _Cas_ that Dean forgot how sleepy he was, wanting to stay in this moment forever. They wrapped each other in their arms, trading slow kisses, until Dean couldn't hold back a yawn anymore.

"Alright," he sighed, pushing Cas away just slightly. "I'm tired. How about we go to sleep and maybe pick this up tomorrow?"

Cas nodded and bumped his forehead against Dean's. "Of course."

After they both changed into pajamas, they curled up together on Dean's bed, Dean wrapping his arms around Cas's middle and Cas combing a hand through his hair. Every few seconds, the enormity of the progress they'd made hit Dean again, and he had to keep himself from shedding more tears of happiness.

"Love you," Dean mumbled into Cas's stomach. He couldn't say it with his full voice, not yet, but he was getting there.

"I love you, too, North Star." Cas's hand settled on the back of Dean's neck, his ring a grounding reminder of all that they'd done that day.

Dean drifted off to sleep, comforted by the weight of his own ring, the warm blankets, and Cas's arm on his back. He'd never felt more safe in his entire life. For once, it looked like he would stay that way.


End file.
